Spring Nicht
by Danaeyl Panthernopaeus
Summary: Can you save the one you love when you know how they will die? Rated for language.


**~Spring Nicht~**

**Author:  
**Danaeyl Panthernopaeus.

**Theme:  
**Alternate Universe.

**Storyline:  
**Is it a dream or reality?

**Warnings:  
**Shounen-ai, slight language, OOCN (out of character notions).

**Disclaimer:  
**The characters and characteristics of DNAngel _are not_ mine. This is a fan-based, non-profit story.

**Author's Note:  
**A dear friend, who hates my writing style, challenged me to write a story with the inspiration of a song. The song is Spring Nicht (Don't Jump) by Tokio Hotel. I also disclaim any rights to the song and the band. Here is the finished result of the "inspiration".

* * *

I can see him, fifty-four floors off the ground. I know it's him. There is just no mistaking it. I can't tell what he's wearing, but if this is anything like what I think it is, he's wearing the outfit I bought him. The one he loves. The one I love him in. But this might not be what I think it is.

After all, what I think it is is a dream. A nightmare that has been haunting me for the last three months. Every morning I wake up and see he's not harmed. That my mind is just screwing me around. Every night, I race up fifty-four sets of stairs. Every night I feel I'm about to have a heart attack. Everyday, I can't seem to find a reason why I have this dream. Never any other one. Always the same one.

I stare up at him for moments that seem like hours.

I run into the building and head to the elevators. Just like every other dream, they're all out of order. I see the door to the stairwell and run to it. The door is unlocked and I start my journey upwards. I guess I should be thankful there aren't any police around to make the situation worse. After all, only I can talk him down. No-one else will do. It's me he wants. I'm the reason.

Three floors up and my legs feel like jelly.

I grip the banister, not wanting to lose my footing and break my neck. I also use it to help pull myself up the stairs faster. If this is a dream, I refuse to let it end like all the other ones. I refuse to stop, not until I'm certain he's safe.

I curse myself for being an idiot. Should it really be pinned on me though? I only told him the truth. It was what he wanted to hear. Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt. Maybe I should have used some of that tact that I'm so proud about. Maybe I should have just told him the _real_ truth and not the one that suited me.

Maybe this is all my fault.

Maybe I shouldn't have tried to get out of an awkward situation by telling him I could never love someone who was so cruel. I think at that moment in time, I saw his heart just shatter. I would give anything to take it back. Even if it means the death of me.

I won't have him die before I can tell him how sorry I am. Before I can tell him how much I do love him. Before I can tell him how much I _need_ him by my side. Before I can tell him how much I love the way the smallest things make him happy. Even just telling him we're going to park for a little while makes him dance around. Something he would never have thought of doing three years ago.

How much he has changed. His eyes shine brighter than ever. His smile is no longer cold and unfeeling. Just everything about him has turned into a happy person. And that's what he is. He's a happy person. I never should have brought up the past. It should be me at the top of this building. I should be the one wanting to kill myself for hurting him so much.

Nine floors up. Only another forty-five to go.

I rest for a moment at the entrance door to floor ten. I refuse to take any longer than a moment. In this kind of situation, ever second counts and I can't have him doing something stupid. Not without me there. If he's going to make a stupid decision, he's not going to make it alone.

And how alone must he feel now? How alone has he been feeling since that day? How much hurt has he hidden from everyone? Three years ago, the whole world would have known he was fucked over by some asshole. Three years ago, he would have killed me in my sleep. Three years ago, he wouldn't have cried and tried to tell me he's changed.

I know he's changed. I loved him before he made the change. He was always the counterbalance to my childishness. Now, we're both childish and get into more trouble than I've ever gotten into in my entire existence. I only do it because he's not used to the fun side of life.

He had no idea what life was outside of a white room. He had no idea that life didn't revolve around depression. He had no idea that he didn't need to attempt to kill himself to get people's attention. He had no idea of what love was and he still doesn't.

But, I'm going to show him what love is. I refuse to let him leave this world without something he can carry over.

Three years it took to remove the stigma of a public nuisance only to regain it because some prick refused to accept his own feelings. Of all the things I promised him, why did I never promise him my love? I know the answer. Because I never thought he would fall for me. I was the one who put him in an institution for nine years of his life.

I guess it's easier to deal with someone's resent then to live with your own guilt of their death.

I look up at the remaining floors as I run. I have no idea what floor I'm on but I can't help but curse him for picking a building that doesn't have working elevators and just happens to be fifty-four stories high. Only he could do that. Some things of his past are still with him, it would appear. Not just anybody knows what buildings have non-operational elevators. If it were any other time, I would be quite impressed.

I didn't have time to be impressed. Not with his life on the line. Not with him thinking of more reasons to kill himself than to step away from the edge. I do question myself as to why someone who has a fear of heights would be standing up there and not have passed out.

I know the answer to that. He doesn't want to die on impact.

He would prefer to die of a heart attack.

Seventeen floors up, thirty-seven to go.

I don't know if I can make it. If this is a dream, by the time I get there, it will be too late. But if this isn't a dream – is this a dream? It has to be. It's replaying like a movie. There is no way I would be able to get it perfect in reality.

Three months ago, I told him I could never love someone so cruel. Three months ago, his heart shattered right before my eyes. Three months ago, I began having nightmares about his death and how I was ineffectual to stop it.

But not this one.

No, this one is going to different from the rest. I'm going to get him to live. I'm not going to let him kill himself, no matter what he tells me. I have to let him know he has too much to live for to just throw it away over some guy.

In the most twisted and sadistic way, I feel honored. I can say I had someone kill themselves for my love. Of course, it's not something to brag about at parties. And it's not really something to tell your friends and family.

Nine years he spent in that white hell because I found him and called an ambulance. How long would they keep me locked away for? I wouldn't settle for anything less than life. My family could spring me out in like six months. But that's because I have them. He had nothing when he went in and he feels the same way now.

Seeing someone die on the inside is just as bad as seeing someone jump to their death. I never thought it would be so bad. I have killed people before in my time, but I never wanted to kill the one person who was so like me and so different.

Why did I say that to him? Was I _that_ desperate to see how much of a bastard I could be before he gave in and kill himself?

No. I said it because I wanted to hurt him; to crush him. To let him know that I haven't forgotten what he did in the past. And that really isn't like me. I've been so nasty to someone in my life then I was on that autumn night in his favorite park.

How I hate that park now.

The same park where we made so many happy memories is now tainted by one night of stupidity. The same park where he was the happiest. Where he would laugh and dance and play like a child. In a way, I guess he's more like a child than I am. I was never as restrained as he had been. Once given the power to let loose, he let loose.

He's so much like a hurricane now. Such a whirlwind of emotions. Every emotion he tried to lock away is now breaking free. The emotions that one had to delve deep into the complexity that is him just to try and find them. Even when you thought you'd dug deep enough, you still had to go that little extra to find exactly what you were looking for.

Twenty-five floors up, twenty-nine to go.

I stop at twenty-six to catch my breath. I realize it's the stupidest thing to do as I nearly collapse. My body feels like shit and I'm sure I don't look much better. I can feel the sweat just dripping from my chin and nose. Even for a winter night, I still manage to sweat like a pig. I straighten and push on.

I did crush him. I did remind him that past wounds are difficult to heal. And it wasn't even what in the past's past that I was referring to that night. I was only referring to the previous two months. I did what I thought was necessary at the time.

Five months ago, he got a boyfriend. I didn't see him; maybe twice in the two months they were together. If what I heard was correct that night in the park through his babbling, he was the who broke it off, not the boyfriend. After he had calmed down, I only added insult to injury. I guess you could say I was bitter about the whole ordeal, so I decided to squeeze some of my bitterness into his wounds.

And that was the first time I saw someone I care about die.

It's always so much harder when you love the person. It's like the saying goes: You hurt the ones you love the most. And I did more than hurt him. Shit, I might as well be the one that pushes him off the roof.

Ever since that night, he has refused to be near me and I didn't want to force him. All I want is to tell him how sorry I am and how much I regret ever saying those words. I could make a book about it. "How to Offend Someone in Ten Syllables or Less". I smell a best seller. Actually, I can smell is the paint. This stairwell must have been repainted recently.

He changed again in the last three months. He tried to keep up the façade that he was alright and that nothing horrible had happened. I could see right through it. Because I'm the one who made him put on that mask. My guess is he would rather die than to wear another mask. I can't say I know what he's going through. I can't even begin to imagine.

I've never had to feel loneliness or pain – well, emotion pain. I know that psychological wounds are harder to heal than physical ones. And even if I did tell him that I'm sorry and that I want to be with him, he would probably forever have the fear of not being loved by me. But that's okay because I know we could work through it and I could show him just how much he means to me. In time, of course.

I wish I could make that clear to him that we have all the time in the world to sort out our problems. Not alone but as a couple. That we have to consider the choices we make and think about how it would affect our partner. He is my partner. My lover. My other half, in more ways than one.

He is my completion.

Without him, I have no way of ever being whole again.

Why couldn't I have considered that that night in the park? Why couldn't I have thought it was a blessing he broke up with that jerk and made my move? Why did I have to trash him to the point of suicide? Because I wanted him to feel as bad as he had made me feel in those two months. Those two months felt like a lifetime to me.

Not even the memories of the nights where he would sneak into my bed could dull the sting of rejection. Alcohol just made it worse. It only made me bed anyone that even slightly resembled him. It didn't matter if their eyes were the same shape as his or their nose or even if they had long legs. It was the closest I could get to him without having him.

That night, after he tried to convince me he had changed, he said he could never be with another person. I asked him why that was and he never answered me. I guess this could be the reason why he couldn't be with another person. Death kind of limits the love life a little.

As I push myself on to make it only twenty floors that separate us, I realize that every little thing we did together is sacred to him. We laugh and cry over the same things. We like and dislike the same things. We could be counted as twins, minus that we come from different bloodlines.

The reason I know our moments together are sacred to him is because they're sacred to me. Those memories are the only thing no-one can take from me. I cherish everything about him and I know he's the same with me. We make sure we surprise the other. Those times are few and far apart but it makes them sweeter.

Especially with him. How excited he got when I bought him an eyeliner by one of his favorite brands for his birthday. Unfortunately, not waterproof. He squealed and I couldn't detach him from me for the rest of the day. He should be grateful. That damned stick cost me one thousand, nine-hundred and thirty-two and forty-three yen*. I only remember because it was such a large sum.

He's always had expensive taste. In clothes, make up and phones. The outfit he's wearing right now, I'm not going to mention how much that cost me. It's worth though. I know I don't have to spend gratuitous amounts of money on him just to see him smile, I like doing that. And I know that the reason I do it is not the real reason.

I don't need to spend nearly two thousand yen on one item just to let him know I care about him. I know he knows. And as long as he knows, I'm happy. But I do it anyway. I do it to let him know that if I could buy his happiness, there is no amount I wouldn't spend for him.

Eight years ago, as a "I'm sorry for sending you to loony bin" present, I bought him a light blue, plush rabbit. He still has it. It's the only material thing he has ever attached himself to because I know it reminds him of me. I have no doubt that after that night, he hugged it and cried. It's what I would have done.

It what I should have been doing. It shouldn't have been him. He didn't deserve it. He's never done anything to deserve the harsh words I told him. I should have made an effort to see him when he had that boyfriend. I shouldn't have tried to avoid him.

Yes, it was all my fault. I avoided him because I didn't want to be reminded that someone had something I had claimed. I may not have marked him but I know he's mine. No-one would ever know him as well as I do. And I can't let him die because of that.

Thirteen floors to go.

How can I be so close yet so far away from him? How could I have ever let him think he's alone? How could I have ever let spiral into this state again? How can I make everything go back to the way it was?

I know I can never do that. I wish I could go back to that night and take back those words that had spilled from my mouth like a poison. I wish I would have just hugged him and told him everything would be fine and that he doesn't have to go through it alone.

I wish…I had been on the receiving end of my words.

I know I would be able to handle something like that. And that's where he and I differ. When it comes to people saying something harsh like that, I brush it off. But with him, it's all or nothing. He can't have what's in the middle.

Maybe I should have forced him to listen to him instead of trying to get him alone. Maybe that's what he wanted from me. Maybe all I had to do was hold him in place and apologize for being such a douche.

I glance down the stairwell when I hear voices. A floors back, I had heard sirens and figured someone else saw him. I shout down that they're wasting their time and he's not a jumper. They call back, wanting to know how I know this. I reply honestly.

"Because he's my partner and won't kill himself."

I don't think they believe the last part but told me that once I was on the roof, I only have twenty minutes before they remove the pair of us by force. I shout back my thanks and push myself harder than before. Maybe this is a reality.

In my dreams, the police have never shown up. Then again, I did say I refuse to let this dream be the same as the others. Maybe this is just my subconscious letting me know that I can change the outcome of something as simple as a dream.

If that's true, then maybe I can change the outcome of my relationship with him. Maybe I _can_ get through to him, if he'll let me. And he will because I know him too well to know he wouldn't at least hear me out.

Only six more floors to go.

I just hope he's still up there when I arrive. Twenty minutes isn't much time but it's all I've got to work with. Perhaps in this instance, twenty minutes might be more than enough. After all, I just need him to step back from the ledge and the police will be happy, if they don't want to arrest him.

Three more floors.

Two more.

Last one.

I burst through the door and look around. I find him and run towards him. There's a fair distance between us but after running up fifty-four flights of stairs, I don't care anymore. I just need to get to him.

"Krad!" I call as I near him, stopping off to his right.

He turns at the waist, looking at me. I can see the black streaks down his cheeks, which lets me know he's wearing the eyeliner I got him. His hair sways in the cold breeze and I see him shaking. That outfit I got him isn't the best for winter.

"Dark," he whispers sadly, making my heart ache.

"Please, don't jump," I beg him, not taking my eyes off him, even when he faces forward.

I see a tear fall from his face and onto the street below.

"I can't believe my fear stopped me from seeing beautiful sights like this."

I gaze out over the city. The twinkling lights contrasted by a starless night sky. It is beautiful. But I would enjoy it more if he would just hop down and let me hug him.

"Krad–"

"Dark," he cut in. "Do you remember when you promised me the sky? The stars, the moon, the sun. You even promised to be there for me. Maybe not as a lover but at least as a friend. Why? Why couldn't you be there for me that night?"

I look at him and see more tears fall from his face. I can't answer him. I don't know what to say that wouldn't make him want to kill himself. But I can't remain silent because I know that will make the pain even worse.

"I…" I trail off and sigh.

"Why didn't you force me to listen to you when you wanted to apologize to me?"

"Krad–"

"You didn't hesitate to remind me of what I had done. But when you want to make things better, you do what? You let them fester for three months. I gave you three months, Dark. If you can't apologize in three months, obviously you're not sorry about you said."

That stings like a slap to the face. "I am sorry, Krad! I'm sorry about what I said. I'm sorry that I didn't 'I'm sorry' sooner! And I'm sorry that you think being dead will make everything better!"

"Being dead doesn't make everything better, Dark. It's just a momentary release. That's why some people cut themselves. Sometimes, though, you want that release to be that little bit deeper and accidentally cut something you're not meant to. And what does that get you? Nine years in an institution because they think you're suicidal."

"But you've changed in the three years since you were released. Why does the past matter now?"

Krad turned and glared at me. I suddenly feel like I'm the one on that ledge instead of him. I've only ever seen that much rage in his eyes once and that was when some moron at the clinic screwed up his medication. There was no repeat of that, not since Krad beat three male nurses into a coma without breaking a sweat.

"'Why does the past matter now?'" he repeated. "I don't know, Dark. Why did it matter that night in the park?" Krad's rage died off completely at the memory. "Because of that night…"

I climb up onto the ledge beside him. He has a look of shock on his face. "You told me you couldn't be with another person, that night. I asked you why and you never answered me. Why can't you be with another person?"

Krad looks at me. How I've missed those eyes of his. I miss the emotions that are always swirling around in them. Even now, he has so many emotions running through those gold depths that I can't even think of what he must be going through.

"I said that because…If you can't love me for who I am, how can anyone else?"

How could I be so blind? Of course death isn't the reason.

I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "I do love you, Krad. For the longest time."

We turn towards each other and he gives me that gentle smiles of his. The one only I ever receive and I won't let any other bastard have it.

I cup his cheek and lean in close to him. It's been so long since I last felt his lips. I wonder if they're as warm and soft as I remember them to be?

"Please step away from the ledge!" a voice booms at us.

I let go of his hand and turn around as does he.

We lose out balance and fall backwards.

My eyes close in fear.

Suddenly, my body jolts and I open my eyes. I look around.

* * *

End.

I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.

* The 1, 932.42 yen is roughly $25 AUD. Yes, some make-up is ridiculously expensive.


End file.
